Why She Didn't Stay
by bridgetash
Summary: Rachel didn't get off the plane but she soon finds that there's no place like home. Ch 7 Rachel tells Stuart to take Emily home but will Rachel follow her own advice? FINAL
1. Paris

Rachel didn't get off the plane, but what she finds in Paris makes her realise that there's no place like home

****

Why she didn't stay

She had had a moment in the plane, before it took off where she wanted to switch her mobile phone back on, call Ross, tell him she loved him and she was coming back. Oh no, not again, part of her mind told her as she forced herself to leave the phone where it was. Not again. Too-ing and Fro–ing for seven years. There had been a relationship that had failed through stupidity. There had been a drunken marriage that hadn't lasted. They had had a daughter, but even she hadn't been enough to bring them together. They were always on the table, but they never got anywhere. It was neither togetherness nor separation and it was a state that was holding her, and probably him back. There was nothing romantic about the line:

I can't live, with or without you.'

Nothing.

All it was, was torture. Monica and Chandler had found their centre in each other. Phoebe had found The One. Joey was living life the way he wanted, and when or if he found The One' there would be no ghosts on his side to mess it up. It was only Ross and herself who were stuck, circling each other but never meeting. They'd made no progress at all.

Rachel sighed. It was so typical of him to come out with it, at the very last moment. Before it was too late — but it was too late. He wasn't the only one guilty of that — she'd been too late, figuring out that she wanted him back, when he'd fallen too deep in love with Emily. The breakdown of that marriage had not been a new beginning for them and instead they'd wandered in and out of each other's orbit, no-one else's pull being strong enough to make them break away from each other. Oh, it wasn't love that was the problem. They did love each other, but love wasn't enough.

New York sped away, at hundreds of miles and hour, and she tried instead to think of what lay ahead.

Once she'd arrived in Paris, she'd gone straight to the hotel. She hadn't thought she could sleep so well but after she'd finished a call to her mother to ask after Emma, she fell asleep, still wearing her travelling clothes.

The next day was all activity. Her French assistant showed her around the office and then, as had been arranged, showed her to her temporary accommodation which was fortunately furnished. Not all of the furniture was to her taste, but she was surprised at how much of it was. All of it was of reasonable quality too.

It's not bad,' Marie said dismissively. It would take a while for Rachel to start taking style and good taste for granted. You don't have to move out at all if you don't feel like moving..' That was a relief, she thought. She didn't want to be under any more pressure. She looked around the rooms, which were big and airy. Over the balcony, facing the back, was a view of the garden, which had a back gate leading to a lane.

It is quicker to get to the main road through that gate,' Marie said, Most residents use that way out.'

Do you live here?' Rachel asked.

Not any more, I've got an apartment with my friends.' Ah friends. Rachel felt a pang. She had not allowed herself to think how much she'd miss them until this point.

I suppose now you wish to see the Creche?' Marie said, and they left the apartment.

A ground floor apartment would have been better, so that Emma could get into the garden, Rachel thought, but as it was, she was beginning to like her new home already. Drinking coffee on the balcony, she watched the people returning from work. She saw a young woman, hurrying home carrying a baby who was crying. Hungry, tired, wet, who knew? A tall man, came strolling along with a jaunty air. He looked up to the balconies, first it seemed to the one next to Rachel and then at Rachel. He grinned.

Bienvenue.' The rest she couldn't understand and he switched to English with a faint Scottish accent. So you're new here, welcome.'

Hi,' Rachel said. He glanced back at the balcony next door, somewhat nervously. She wondered if he lived next door and if so, with whom.

See you around,' he waved as he continued on in. As he lifted his hand, she noticed the glint of a wedding ring on that finger. Rachel went inside.

The solution to her problems did not lie in getting another man — at least not straight away. And certainly not someone else's, although if whoever she was made him anxious look up at the balcony, she'd lose him without Rachel's intervention.

Exhaustion hit Rachel as she rinse out her coffee cup. Getting up in time for work was going to be a snap but lasting until the end of the work day was going to be hard. She dialled her mother again. In a few days, she would be bringing Emma, she'd stay for a few days and then they would be on their own.

After find out that everything was fine, she dialled Monica quickly and got her answering machine. She left a message that said very little. Who else? Her hand lingered over the phone. Ross? But what was there left to say? I miss you. Why are you there then? I can't answer that.

She sighed.

There was a sudden crash next door. Rachel jumped up. That sounded an awful lot like a plate being smashed against the wall. There was also screaming. She couldn't make out the words but it sounded like angry screaming, not the screams of someone in trouble. That would be the person being screamed at, Rachel thought dryly. The man who had greeted her, she thought, because there was an unmistakeably feminine tone to the screaming. No wonder he had looked so anxious, she thought, returning home to that.

Smash went another plate. Then she heard a door slam. Rachel couldn't help it. She ran to her own door to see if she could tell if someone had stormed out of the flat. She could hear nothing, but instead she rushed to the balcony. There was no-one outside, but with her balcony doors open, and those of next door also open, she could hear the man she'd met earlier plead,

Darling, it will be great, trust me.' Darling obviously didn't believe him.

Rachel was suddenly aware that she was being watched by a middle aged couple sitting on their balcony. She felt sudden shame at having been caught eavesdropping and she turned back into the apartment. Just then, the phone rang, and gratefully, she ran to it.


	2. Her?

On her way back the next evening, Rachel found herself walking towards the apartment building with her new next door neighbour. Not the screamer, but the man, who was holding a bunch of flowers, a bunch of white and gold irises.

'How are you this evening?' he smiled, as though nothing had happened. Rachel tried to make sure that there was no hint that she'd overheard what had happened last night.

'Good,' Rachel said.

'I didn't introduce myself. Stuart Fraser.' He had an accent that she couldn't place, some kind of English, maybe Irish – she wasn't very good at picking these things.

'I'm Rachel Green.'

'I guess you're an American of some sort,' he smiled. 'I'm Scottish, although I've lived most of my life in England, and the last six months here.'

'I'm from New York,' Rachel said.

'I've never been there,' Stuart said. She waited while Stuart had a rapid and bewildering exchange with someone else in French.

'I can't imagine being that good at French,' she said, as the someone else parted ways. She couldn't even pick out any words other than 'petit' and 'bebe,' and she couldn't be sure of those.

'You're going to have to be,' Stuart said. 'There are some really wonderful people, but you'll meet plenty of people who won't help you out. Wait until you try and order a coffee in broken French.' So far, Rachel had had people with her when she was out and about and she hadn't done that yet. She had to admit, from the impressions she got from the people at work, that unhelpfulness was not a surprise.

'What happens?'

'Some waiters pretend they can't understand you at all. That happened to me when I came here, and believe me, I'd made just one grammatical error. And don't get me started on Tu and Vous. A lot of them think that if you're here, you should be speaking their language properly, no excuses.'

'Oh,' Rachel said.

'I suppose we think everyone should speak English, no matter where we are, although we tolerate all kinds of grammar. We don't even know how to speak our own language.' As they walked into the garden, Stuart looked up at the balcony. The windows behind looked dark, so it seemed that no-one was home. That meant that Stuart could relax. But a sideways look told Rachel that he was far from relaxed.

'Excuse me,' he said, 'I'd better make sure things are all right there.' He broke into a run, leaving Rachel to follow. She wondered why things wouldn't be all right.

In the apartment, she reflected on her day. She had still not got a handle on how the office worked. There were the official lines of power and authority, and then there was what actually happened. There was, apparently, an office feud and Rachel was doing her best to keep well out of it, knowing that picking any side could make her life a misery. She could tell that many of her workmates were watching her closely, to see which side she'd choose. But even picking no side could be dangerous. She suspected that Marie was not as nice and helpful as she seemed, and she wondered whether she really had been told everything she needed to know. She could already sense that one office worker resented her, and she didn't know why, although she wondered whether that was because she had got the job that she had coveted.

Last night, Monica, who had been the one to call her last night, had been full of the things she and Chandler were doing. If not that, then it was what the twins were doing or what was going on with the new house. Rachel had found it impossible to ask how Ross was doing. Was he okay? Was he managing without her? Was he moping or was he running into someone new as they spoke? Either thing seemed terrible to her. You've left all that, she told herself. Of course you miss him, he's your friend, but enough is enough. She hadn't felt that good about it last night, and even now, after a full day at work, her mind returned to the topic.

Later in the evening, Rachel was on her balcony again when Stuart walked out onto his. Rachel hadn't heard any fighting this evening, so she assumed that either the woman wasn't there or the flowers had done their work.

'It's nice here, isn't it,' he observed.

'Yes.' Rachel glanced over. She could see the middle aged couple sitting out on the balcony, in deep conversation.

'I'm sorry I had to dash. My wife's pregnant, due any day now. Any time I see the lights off when I come home, I worry that something that has happened.'

'Wow, this is your first baby?' Rachel asked, instantly charmed with the idea. So she hadn't imagined the word 'bebe.' She felt proud of herself for recognising it.

'Yes,' Stuart smiled.

'Your life is going to change so much, you won't believe it.' Rachel felt a little wistful. The screamer, as she couldn't help dubbing her, had someone to be with her at this time in her life, someone with whom to share this event. It would mean so much more because it would be a shared experience. And she was lucky, because it seemed that she had a nice man… 'At least if your apartment is like mine, you should be able to manage,' Rachel said, 'There's plenty of room.' Surprisingly so, she had thought at the time, not that she had any complaints. Emma could always use the extra space. Looking a little sheepish he said.

'Yes, it would be a good place. Unfortunately, I've been given a great opportunity in China.'

'China?'

'Yes, it would be really exciting. But they want me to go straight away.'

'Oh no,' Rachel said. That was a bit of a disaster. 'You have to be here, of course.' So that was what the screaming was about. Suddenly, Rachel's attitude changed. If he had broken the news to his wife last night, no wonder she had smashed plates and left him begging through a closed door. She couldn't possibly to China when she could be giving birth any day now, and how could he not be there for the birth? And how could he drag her halfway across the world so soon after giving birth? She almost shuddered at the thought of such an upheaval when Emma was born. And even though she and Ross – well whatever it was that was going on between them, she would have been upset if he hadn't been around.

Stuart sighed.

'It's true, we've moved a lot since we got married, and we did agree that we'd go back to England for good before the baby was born.' It looked like they were too late for that, thought Rachel, 'But this is a great opportunity,' he said, with longing in his voice. What a time to choose to break a promise. 'I don't think she will leave me,' he said. Uh oh, Rachel thought, that announcement must have caused serious problems if that threat had been made, and Stuart was sounding uncertain. 'Although I know she's followed through on ultimatums before.' Suddenly, Rachel heard his wife call from inside.

'Stuart, would you come and help me with this, please.' With a quick,

'See you later,' Stuart turned to go inside. He didn't notice Rachel's face become rigid at the sound of the woman's voice. A voice she thought she recognised. Her? She was here? That couldn't be right, but all the same, the voice sounded a lot like one from the past. Emily Waltham.


	3. Conversations

No, that was ridiculous, how could Emily be here, in Paris? That was a stupid question. If someone who lived in New York could come and live in Paris, so could someone who lived in London – in fact London was a lot closer to Paris than New York and she wouldn't even need a visa, would she? It was perfectly possible for her to be here, on her own account or on that of her husband. Now Rachel knew what had happened to her after that phone call. So, she'd married Stuart, it had somehow worked, despite the unfortunate beginning and now she was here, about to have a baby.

How different things would have been if her marriage to Ross had worked out. They would never know how it could have been, because of Ross's mistake, and then the airport, and then Emily refusing to trust him. Rachel tried to imagine it, but couldn't – it was all too long ago, and the details of the past were so hazy – everything had happened so quickly. What she did seize on, was that if things had worked out with them, there would have been no Emma, and there was no way she'd regret having Emma.

She called Monica. As soon as they'd greeted each other, Rachel said,

'Can you believe it? I think I'm living next door to Emily Waltham.'

'What? Her?' Monica exclaimed. If Rachel wasn't her friend, she'd have described that as a shriek.

'I think it was her. I heard her voice and it sounded an awful lot like her.'

'How could she be there?' Monica demanded.

'Because of her husband.'

'Oh, yeah,' Monica said, 'It sounds like Ross had a luckier escape that we knew.' Rachel had told her about the plate smashing the night before.

'Yes,' Rachel said.

'It will be terrible to have to live next door to her. You'll have to move,' Monica said. Well, she'd probably be going anyway, thought Rachel, to China with her husband or to England on her own, and it would only be a matter of weeks either way. It was a lot of trouble for Rachel to go to, in a foreign country, to move apartments. How would she be able to find somewhere so good so quickly?

'It's all in the past so why should it be terrible?' She didn't know how it would be. She was nervous at the thought of meeting Emily again and she had no idea how Emily would react when she saw her. Emily had hated her then, would she be any different now? Was she going to be cold and unpleasant? Or would there be an attack of some kind?

'She hates you,' Monica said. 'Or at least she did. However she feels, she's not going to be friendly, especially when she finds out that you and Ross had a child together.' She'd done it, she'd mentioned Ross. Of course Monica would mention him, he was her brother. She could hardly expect her never to mention him.

'That was a long time ago,' Rachel repeated, her voice sounding awkward to her ears. Would she ever be able to say Ross's name as though he was just another person? She had before, but right now, it seemed so difficult to believe that she ever would. 'Anyway, she might be moving. Her husband wants to go to China.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah, except she doesn't want to go.'

'She's just being the controlling bitch she always was,' Monica said. Someone else hadn't calmed down six years.

'Well, she is pregnant,' Rachel said, 'and nearly due. I wouldn't want to go anywhere if I was about to give birth either.'

'She's pregnant?' Rachel felt like asking if Monica's hearing was okay. Her own wouldn't be if Monica kept reacting like that.

'Yeah, well it happens if…' she broke off what she was going to say. It happens when a man and a woman have unprotected sex at the right time, but it would never happen for Monica and Chandler. 'You know.'

'I know,' Monica said. 'It happens for everyone else except me. Even people like her get to have babies.' Rachel didn't know what to say and was silent. 'Oh don't listen to me, I just get like that when I hear about other women being able to experience that magical feeling of a baby growing inside them.' It was true. Monica was able to cope with other people having children, but pregnancy often made her go silent.

'Tell me how Jack and Erica are,' Rachel said, and slowly, conversation got back to normal.

Somehow she was able to finish the conversation, calm enough to think about turning in for the night and getting some sleep. It was just someone, anyone living next door, someone who had no connection with her. Ross was out of her life, and anything to do with his exes doubly so. She didn't need to know and she didn't need to care. If they were moving in a few weeks, she wouldn't have to put up with it for long. In fact, they might be able to get away with not seeing each other, because they certainly hadn't met so far.

The phone rang as she was just about to go to bed. She was almost tempted to leave it, but she thought it just might be something about Emma.

It was Ross.

'Rachel?'

'Ross,' she said. What are you doing? Why are you ringing? But she didn't ask these questions and just let the silence linger.

'I just wanted to find out how you were. Settling into your new job and getting used to things over there, and – everything.'

'Yeah,' Rachel said. It was too soon to tell how that was going to turn out. Just because she'd had some negative first impression of it all didn't mean that it was going to be like that always. Probably not.

'That's good,' Ross said. 'And your apartment? Is that okay?'

'It's okay,' she said. Apart from the fact that your ex wife is here, and no I don't mean Carol. She didn't say that either. She didn't want to hear how his voice might change, or react, when he heard Emily's name. Although why she should care about that, when Emily was married, and probably looking like a beach ball, and when she had told Ross firmly that it was really all over between them, she didn't know.

'Okay for Emma?' he asked anxiously.

'Yes, there's somewhere for her to play, and there are big rooms in this apartment, and I've already got a place in a creche for her,' she said. There was another long pause.

'I'm glad things are working out for you,' Ross said, sounding miserable. 'I want you to be happy.'

'I want you to be happy too,' Rachel said.

'Yeah,' Ross said.

'You need to get out, do stuff, meet people,' Rachel said. 'Don't stay indoors – go out – it must be great over there.' Over there, her country, her city, her place – she had to stop thinking those things, because they didn't help her at all.

'Yeah,' Ross said. She wanted to say, forget about me. But that would raise a subject she had decided was finished and done with.

'Hey, I've got work tomorrow and its nearly midnight here, so I'd better go,' Rachel said at last, and rang off.

Why did she feel so bad?


	4. Things Can Only Get

Rachel was feeling out of sorts. She had slept badly and reruns of her experiences with Ross played in her head. If only… Of course things were better this way – but why didn't they feel better? Because they should, they had settled it. That question plagued her all day, along with a feeling of loneliness and loss, which would not be rationalised away.

The events of the day didn't help. There was her experience with the Metro. She had had no trouble before, mainly because she had been able to get what she wanted without speaking to anyone. Today, she had needed to speak to someone about her ticket, and what Stuart had warned her about had come true. She had been misunderstood, and she had felt it was deliberate, and when she'd lost her temper, all she had seen was a superior Gallic smile. His supervisor had come along to sort things out, speaking what Rachel considered to be far worse English than was her French. He had seemed to think that communication would be assisted if he also shouted.

Rachel had only been rescued when an English woman in her early twenties intervened. The woman had asked her one question: what was wrong, and then had a short rapid exchange in French which seemed to solve all difficulties.

'There you are,' the woman said, 'That's you all sorted out. They can be so awful.' That had sounded so like Emily, that Rachel stared back in shock, omitting to thank her or acknowledge her in any way. The woman's eyes had narrowed in annoyance and she muttered, 'Don't know why I bothered, you've got no bloody manners,' disappearing into the crowd before Rachel could collect herself.

What a terrible start to the day, she ruminated, as she finally boarded her train. She needed the kindness of strangers and she felt guilty about the episode. The incident had made her late for the office, attracting the silent stares of everyone and her supervisor, Jacqueline greeted her with 'bon soir,' which was grossly unfair.

Worse was to come. Jacqueline, called her into her office and destroyed her work, figuratively speaking. It was unsubtle, it was crude, it might work in the US but a Parisienne, a Frenchwoman, even an average European woman would not respond to such ideas. Rachel burned with embarrassment. She also wanted to demand to know where Jacqueline got off, saying these things to her, about Americans, and about her style. But Jacqueline was her boss, this was Rachel's big break, and she slunk back to her office feeling every bit as gauche as she'd been accused of being.

How did they do it, she wondered, as she looked across her desk. Marie was wearing the same dress she'd worn the day before yesterday, as though that was okay – yet it seemed that it was, because it was a well chosen dress. Not the best dress in the world, but a very good choice for her. They all dressed that way, fashionably, but each with a touch of individuality, each looking as though she was wearing clothes as though they had been designed only for her. They hadn't bought what was in the shops because it was new, but because whatever it was complemented them perfectly.

They were all so thin too. Rachel felt fat when she looked in the mirror, and when she was standing next to Monica, but when she was around most people – except these people – she felt okay. To her dismay, Marie lighted up a cigarette. Monique, slinking past the desk, had a cigarette in her hand.

Renee, who had come to talk to her about samples, was fortunately not smoking.

'You know, you should be careful of Monique,' Renee said, in a low voice.

'Why's that?' Rachel felt alarmed. She had responded at once to Monique, simply because her name was similar to Monica's. There was only one Monica of course, but she felt drawn to Monique, nonetheless.

'She is one big backstabber that one. Nice to your face,' Renee said, while Rachel remembered how nice she had been, 'Then mimic you to your back.' To make things worse, Renee said that in what she knew to be in a parody of Rachel's own accent. 'It is so unfair, of course,' Renee said in her normal voice. Feeling unnerved, Rachel tried to remember everything that she had ever said to Monique, wondering whether any of it could be used against her.

She had just settled down to work again when Monique stamped past. As Rachel looked up, she found that Monique was glaring at her. She recoiled in shock. She hadn't done anything that could upset her, nothing. She saw a lot of profiles and turned backs in the office and no-one seemed to want to speak to her. She worked in silence until lunchtime.

She caught up with Marie and asked her what was going on.

'You shouldn't have spoken to Renee,' she explained.

'But I had to, it's my job, she had to talk to me about the samples.' Marie shrugged.

'I know, but Monique and Renee are fighting. If you are friendly with one, you are the enemy of the other, it is all very simple.'

'I'm not friendly or unfriendly,' Rachel protested. 'It's got nothing to do with me, I don't want to take sides.'

'Rachel, you have to take sides,' Marie said, 'If you don't they will both treat you like an enemy.'

'That's not fair.'

'Only babies cry about what is fair and what is not fair. How it is, is how it is,' Marie said coldly, and to her amazement, she walked away from Rachel, leaving her standing in confusion.

In the afternoon, she braved Jacqueline's office. It was going to be hell on earth in a place like this if she didn't sort something out.

'Oh you've got the job Marie wanted,' Jacqueline said coolly. 'Only they decided to get an American. To be different.' Her tone made it clear that she had thought that this was an unnecessary and radical thing to do.

'So she hates me because she thinks I've got her job.' Oh brilliant, Rachel thought.

'You have got her job,' Jacqueline said. Rachel was on the verge of saying that it wasn't fair when Marie's words came back to her. She then wondered if she should ask Jacqueline whether she resented Rachel as well, but thought better of it. She had to find a way to make it in this horrible place.

She met Stuart on the way into the courtyard.

'Oh boy, you weren't wrong about the language problem,' she said as soon as she saw him. Really, she should have kept away from him, knowing who he was married to, but she couldn't help it. He was the only really friendly person around – apart from the woman in the metro and she wouldn't be friendly again – and she had liked talking to him, so far. There was no way he could know who he was.

'Rough day?'

'You could say that,' Rachel said.

'Let's sit out here for a while,' Stuart said. Rachel glanced up at the balcony – wasn't he in a hurry to get home to Emily? And then, what if she looked out and saw them? Seeing her look, Stuart said, 'Oh, she's out, she's got a doctor's appointment this evening – just a routine check up.'

'That's good.' Rachel sat on one of the garden seats. There was a nice arrangement of flowers in the middle of the courtyard.

'Tell me about it,' Stuart said, taking one of the other seats, and Rachel told him, ending with,

'…And I don't know what to do.'

They heard the gate open and Stuart looked around.

'Here she is,' he said, smiling. Emily came through the gate with the typical ponderous gait of late pregnancy. Her face, for an instant placid suddenly took on an expression of horror, as she noticed Rachel. With a tone filled with loathing she said,

'You!'


	5. I Hate Paris

There was an awful moment where they stared at each other.

'Er, hi Emily,' Rachel said. She could see that Emily was shaking all over and she could bet that it wasn't because she was cold. The silence lengthened.

'Emily?' Stuart asked in uncertainly. At this Emily stopped staring at Rachel and turned on her husband.

'How could you!'

'Hey?' Stuart asked, clearly confused.

'First you want to drag me halfway round the world, even though you promised you wouldn't, you said we'd stay in one place, so that we could have a home! Now I find – tu parlez cette putain!' Rachel didn't know exactly what Emily had said at the end, but she knew that "putain" was a bad word, especially given the way it was pronounced. She sat up, ready to give back as good as she got, because today, she'd had more than enough of everything.

'Emily!' Stuart asked mystified. 'What did you say that for? What the hell's going on?' Maybe, Rachel thought, she'd better let Stuart handle it – after all, he was her husband, but then came Emily's answer.

'She - she ruins everything,' Emily said hysterically, pointing at Rachel. There was no way she was going to be backing off, into her apartment.

'Hey,' Rachel demanded, 'Who's "she?"' Damn it, Emily could just address her.

'She's toxic bloody waste!' Emily raged, ignoring Rachel, 'She's done it to me once and here she is, sneaking around, sticking her poisonous claws into another one of my husbands! She couldn't keep her hands off my first husband – '

'Hey,' Rachel said, to no avail. Stuart tried to take Emily's arm but she flung him off.

'Now she's doing it again! Well go on, take her to bloody China!'

'Emily,' Stuart began.

'I'll have the baby on my own, I don't need you!' Emily raged and stormed off. Stuart ran after her, throwing back an,

'I'm sorry,' to Rachel, and disappeared inside.

Rachel sat back down. She need wonder no longer. It was worse than she could ever have imagined, although at least it was over and done with now. She found herself trembling. First the metro, then work, and now this. Just because 'this' wasn't all that much of a surprise didn't make things any better.

She hated being here. No, she told herself, that wouldn't do. It was just a bad day. She'd get the metro, she'd figure things out at work, and Stuart and Emily would leave, one way or the other. It would be fine. She was living the opportunity of a lifetime, and as for the problem of missing Emma, well Emma would be here. It would be so much better then. She tried hard to visualise it but she couldn't.

She couldn't talk to a child about how she was feeling. She needed her friends but she'd left them behind. It was her choice. And things were changing anyway. They were all going their separate ways… Westchester wasn't all that far from where she had lived in New York – at least it wasn't an ocean away. Central Perk.

There were coffee houses in Paris – it was famous for having them. Coffee and conversation – but what good was conversation to her when she didn't understand it and didn't have anyone to go with either.

She looked around her. The middle aged couple on the balcony weren't visible, but she didn't feel like staying out in the garden, on view. Since she had given Emily and Stuart quite a head start, they would both be safely out of the way when she went up to her apartment. She might be an ocean away from her friends, but she could try giving Monica a call.

As she stood up, Stuart came back into the garden. Rachel could see that he had a red mark on the side of his face.

'She's not talking,' he said, sitting down. Rachel sat down. She wanted to say something, give him some words of sympathy for what he had suffered – none of it was his fault. Of course none of it was hers either… She suddenly noticed that he was looking at her, and feeling a lurch of apprehension, realised that his gaze was not friendly. 'You're the one who…'

She was 'the one' but as to what she'd been accused of doing, she didn't know. Emily could have and probably had said all kinds of things about her. Even the truth would have had to be carefully explained, and Emily would not be trying to make Rachel look good in any tale about the past. And this was Emily's husband, who'd regard anyone that Emily was against as the enemy.

'Oh no,' he said quietly.

'Look, I never intended to hurt her, things just happened,' Rachel said, 'If she blames me for what happened, it's not fair. I'm really not going to take any blame, not on top of everything else. If you want to scream at me, make an appointment!' She'd had enough today, but instead of the opposition she'd expected, Stuart shrugged.

'Look, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have a wife, she'd be married to someone else,' he said, 'To someone who doesn't deserve her.' There was more than one way to take that remark, but Rachel held her peace. She did not want to aggravate this man whom she rather liked, Emily's husband or not. 'Unless of course, you'd succeeded in breaking up the marriage in some other way,' he added, still sounding cold.

'I never would have done that!' Rachel exclaimed indignantly. 'I didn't do it in the first place. I'm not that kind of person.' Stuart gave her a sceptical look, but said,

'For the moment, I'll take it on trust that you didn't intend to hurt her.' Not as friendly as he had been, but better than he'd been half a minute ago.

'I didn't.' She hadn't. Emily had only ever been in the way, not a person she hated. Not really. As long as Emily lived her life, somewhere else, with other people, Rachel wished her every happiness she could have. 'I never knew she hated me so much.' It wasn't nice being the object of such hatred.

'Well, she won't let our baby be called Rachel if we have a girl,' Stuart said, 'But she's really only mentioned you once to me, believe it or not. It just seems unfortunate that you've turned up when she's already upset about moving overseas.'

'Oh. You're really going to move to China?'

'Oh yes, opportunities like this don't just come up every day.'

Suddenly, a woman came out of the building and spoke to Stuart in French, sparking off an intense conversation. That done, he said to Rachel, once more dashing away,

'Excuse me, I've got to go.' No explanation, no nothing.

The french woman had stayed in the garden until he left than then said,

'Ah, you are the New Yorker? His wife, she is having a baby,' she said. 'She is so anxious she went without him.' Or stubborn, if she intended on carrying on her resolution to be alone. That explained Stuart leaving in a hurry. 'A man should be with his wife at such a time,' she added, frigidly emphasising the word "wife."

'Hey, I wasn't stopping him,' Rachel said, feeling injured. Emily was understandable but why did everyone else have to believe she was up to no good? The woman walked away without giving her a hearing.

How she hated Paris!


	6. My Best Friend

Great, she thought. Everyone here was thinking she was a marriage wrecker. In fact, if people were gossiping about her, they'd probably already told Emily that her husband had been having conversations with some other woman. They had probably increased the jealous tendencies that Emily had proved to have over Ross. It wasn't fair. She'd just happened to be here, and she'd just happened to be at the airport. There was absolutely no-one to whom she could vent her frustration so instead, she vented frustration by stomping up the stairs, as though each step had personally offended her.

As she arrived through the front door, the phone was ringing. Her heart soared. Somebody wanted to speak to her! She ran forward to answer it, desperate to talk to someone friendly.

'Hi!' she trilled into the phone.

'Hi, Rachel.' She nearly collapsed. It was a friendly voice – the friendliest voice in the world… Of all the people to ring, it had to be him.

'Ross!' It was no hallucination, it was really him. She tried to control her breathing and herself. What she wanted was to be able to blurt out everything – everything she'd told Stuart and all the stuff to do with Emily and the neighbours, but she couldn't. She'd chosen this life and he hadn't wanted her to. She wouldn't beg for sympathy.

'Yeah, it's me. I hope I'm not disturbing you or anything…'

'No! No, no, you're not disturbing me,' she said quickly. She had had no idea until she spoke to him that his was the voice that she wanted to hear. If she couldn't tell him all – or any – of her problems, she could at least prolong the conversation somehow. Her mind refused to play along and give her suggestions of what to say.

'You must be busy,' Ross said.

'No, I'm not busy. I've just got home from work.'

'Oh. I suppose it's that time over there.'

'Yeah.'

'I didn't think about what time it was, sorry.' She wasn't sure why. It was better than ringing in the middle of the night, or while she was away at work.

'It's fine, really Ross.'

'Are you okay?' Ross asked. 'I just hadn't heard what was going on, and I wondered whether everything was all right.'

'Yes, yes I'm fine.'

'Is that true, Rach?'

'Of course it's true,' Rachel said, stung, 'Why do you assume that I can't – ' manage without you. 'It's fine.'

'I – I just thought you sounded…'

'It's fine. Super. Really wonderful. The people at work are great, the metro is fabulous, my next door neighbours are just – just lovely.' Well one of them was, the only partly true statement she'd made so far.

'So you're getting everything ready for Emma.' Of course, that was why he was ringing, she realised, feeling deflated. It wasn't for her. You could only turn a person down so many times before they got the message. She should be glad that he'd moved on.

'Yeah,' she said.

'I – just, just wanted to be sure – I mean I wanted to know if you were sure. Really sure.'

'Of course I'm sure,' Rachel said. 'I've crossed an ocean to be here.'

'I know.'

'I'm not suddenly going to change my mind. I know nothing's perfect, ever, but we agreed that this was best.'

'I didn't agree.'

'What?' Rachel said, derailed.

'I didn't agree. You're over there because I couldn't stop you going, that's all,' Ross said. He didn't shout and this was paradoxically more shocking than if he had.

'No, you couldn't,' Rachel said. She was feeling very shaky and blurted out, 'Don't go trying to lay a guilt trip on me.'

'I can't help it if you feel guilty,' Ross said.

'I don't!' Rachel shouted. 'I don't feel guilty at all, now leave me alone and stop bothering me!' She hung up and the silence echoed. What had she done? She felt more alone than ever. Her best friend… not Monica… she loved Monica, but she wasn't her best friend. You can have only one best friend and only a fool can't work out who that is. Filled with remorse, she dialled Ross back but got no answer. Where could he be? What had she done? She'd shouted at him and now he was out – or maybe sitting there, by the phone, watching it ring.

'Ross,' she said, as the answermachine picked up, 'I'm sorry, please pick up. I didn't meant to yell at you. Please call me back.'

But there was no call back. Rachel had changed and fitfully done a few things around the flat, but the first sound from the outside world came from the doorbell, half an hour later.

It was Stuart.

'She's had the baby already?' Rachel asked. That was unbelievably quick. She'd have liked the labour with Emma to be shorter, but she supposed there was such a thing as it being too fast, considering what was actually happening.

'No, Emily wasn't at the hospital,' Stuart said. 'I don't know where she's gone.' He sat down, uninvited on Rachel's couch. He put his head in her hands. 'I don't know where she is.'

'Another hospital? Perhaps she got confused, or there was – ' she didn't want to alarm him by saying the word emergency. 'Maybe labour came on really quickly so she headed for the nearest hospital.'

'She's booked at the nearest hospital – that's where I went. When she wasn't there, I rang around, in case there'd been some kind of accident. She's not at any hospital.' Stuart was shaking his head.

'Maybe she's gone to a friend's house.' Presumably she had some, somewhere, so that she could complain about everything.

'Well that's a point,' Stuart said. 'But she's taken the address book with her, so I can't ring around.'

'Of course she might have gone to London,' Rachel said.

'Oh no,' Stuart said. He was staring in horror at the idea.

'It's possible.'

'You're right. That's exactly what she'd do in the mood she's in, she'd go to London. Thanks for the tip.' He ran out of the apartment. Rachel sighed, forgetting all about Stuart and Emily as soon as the door was closed. She stared at the telephone, willing it to ring.


	7. Where We Belong

Ten minutes later, Rachel heard a noise from the back gate being slammed. She moved over to the window and saw Emily red faced and obviously upset, hurry along the path to the apartment. Obviously still pregnant. What was going on, Rachel wondered. It was the first thought she'd had in that ten minutes that was not of Ross – she had been able to squeeze a lot of thoughts in that ten minutes about Ross. Why he had called, what he had really wanted to say, why he hadn't called her back yet, why she couldn't get through to him…

It was only when she heard footsteps down in the garden and saw that Emily was speeding away again that she realised she'd fallen into abstraction about Ross again. She would stop thinking about Ross, who wasn't going to call her again, obviously, and start thinking about something else, like the drama next door, and what Emily was doing. She got up and went to the balcony, just in time to see Emily disappear outside the back gate. But as soon as Emily was out of sight, Rachel thought of Ross again.

She tried Ross a few more times, but couldn't bear to leave any more messages, although she got a perverse kind of comfort from hearing his message, saying that he wasn't in, because at least it was his voice.

After another half an hour, Stuart returned, knocking on her door. Rachel had just been debating in her mind whether she could call someone else to pass a message to Ross, or check he was all right, or something.

'I couldn't find her anywhere,' Stuart said despondently, again taking up residence on Rachel's couch. She frowned. Stuart. Emily. Yes, that was something else, a distraction. She could get involved in this problem and that would help time pass.

'A watched pot never boils,' she said. Stuart frowned.

'What was that?' Rachel realised that she'd made no sense to him at all and said hurriedly,

'I mean, she came back.'

'She did?' Stuart jumped up. 'What did she do? What did she say?' As if Rachel would have given Emily the chance to say anything to her again!

'She only stayed five minutes. She went away again in an awful hurry. Out the back gate.'

'She wasn't in labour?' Stuart asked anxiously. Rachel suppressed the desire to roll her eyes.

'It didn't look like it to me. What it did look like was that she'd forgotten something.'

'Forgotten?' Stuart asked blankly.

'Like, maybe she'd forgotten her passport or something.' It was just a random thought of Rachel's but Stuart looked at her in horror, and ran out again.

Now what? Rachel sat where Stuart had been. It was all happening for Emily and nothing was happening for Rachel. Rachel's involvement had not been long enough to distract her. Suddenly the phone rang. In her haste to answer it, Rachel fell off the couch and managed to hang up on it before she was able to answer.

'No!' she screamed in frustration. She dialled Ross but got no answer. 'I didn't hang up on you, not on purpose! It was an accident!' she called into the answermachine. She hung up, feeling despondent, but the phone rang again,

'Hello!'

'Rachel?'

'Ross!'

'You got my message!' Rachel breathed in relief.

'What message?'

'On your answermachine.'

'I haven't been back home. I'm at Monica's,' Ross said. 'I thought after we spoke last that I should speak to her about things.'

'Oh.'

'You left messages for me?' he asked.

'Yes, I'm sorry for hanging up on you. Twice. The second time was a pure accident, I don't know how it happened. I was trying to answer the phone.'

'Oh,' Ross said. 'I've done that before.' Suddenly Rachel heard the back gate bang again and she took the phone with her to watch the back door. 'Are you okay?' Ross asked. 'Monica said you've been having a hard time at work and… and she said Emily was there. Is that true?' A resident of the apartment complex came through the garden.

'Yeah,' Rachel said, 'It's weird. She's here, she hates me and she's about to give birth, and run out on her husband.'

'She hates you?' Ross asked.

'She called me all kinds of names.'

'That's not fair,' Ross said, 'What went wrong between us had nothing to do with you. She can call me names if she wants but – ' Suddenly Emily came through the garden, in tears, carrying her bags.

'Yeah,' Rachel said, absorbed by the drama unfolding, 'she's come back again.'

'What? I don't understand.'

'Well she ran out and her husband went after her, then she came back and left and then he came back asking if she'd been back so I told him, so he went out and now she's come back,' Rachel explained.

'Huh?'

'I wonder what's going on,' Rachel said.

'So do I,' Ross said. 'No I don't, I don't care,' Ross said. 'I want to know that you're all right.' From next door came the cry of,

'I hate you!' Stuart must have come back without her knowing. Suddenly, Emily was on the balcony outside. She hadn't noticed Rachel, who stepped back into the apartment before she could notice. She could hear less audible sounds of masculine protest from the apartment next door.

'Oh my God,' Rachel said and then realised that the other end of the phone was very quiet. She'd managed to pull the jack out. She'd disconnected Ross again. He wasn't going to believe that was an accident. As she scrabbled on the floor to reconnect it, there was a far from polite knocking on the door. Rachel knew who that would be. She reconnected the phone, redialled, and then answered the door with the phone in her hand.

'Thanks,' Stuart said, 'She's gone and shut herself onto the balcony and won't listen.' Déjà vu, Rachel thought. In her condition, let's hope she doesn't climb off the balcony. Stuart had gone out to the balcony.

'Emily.' Rachel wasn't getting through to Ross. Maybe he was calling her. She hung up the phone and carried it to the small table by the couch, before sidling up to the balcony. She couldn't help wondering what was going on.

'What are you doing there? How dare you be there?' Emily exclaimed. 'What are you doing in that woman's flat?' Emily must have caught sight of Rachel, but her dialogue was with her husband only.

'How am I going to talk to you if you keep running away?' Stuart demanded.

'You're not going to talk to me! I'm going back inside,' Emily put her hand on the french doors and winced.

'Has it started?' Stuart asked.

'I don't think so. I think it's just one of those Braxton Hicks things. It happened when I was queuing up for a ticket and they wouldn't let me buy one,' she said.

'Good. You shouldn't travel, you should be here!' With that, Emily wrenched at the door. The handle came off in her hand. She started hitting the door which stayed resolutely closed. 'Now you'll have to listen to me,' Stuart said.

'Listen to you?' Emily turned on him, 'Why should I listen to you? You say things that you don't mean. You don't care about me.'

'Of course I care about you.'

'Then why won't you listen to me? You let me speak, and then you just do what you want. How about what I want?'

'What do you want?' Stuart asked, as though humouring a child.

'I want a home!' Emily said, cutting Rachel to the core. She wanted a home too, and suddenly she realised that even if everything went well, starting from tomorrow, she would never make a home in Paris. 'I want to be somewhere for more than six months at a time, not just for a year or for two years, but for good. I'm sick of having to move all the time.' Rachel moved away from the door, and sat down by the phone.

'But you love travel,' he said.

'I'm having a baby, in case you've forgotten. I need a home, the baby needs a home, and if you won't provide one, I'm going to leave and find one for myself!'

'Emily, this China trip is just for eight months, then we can settle down.'

'You said that last time, and this time. You said, "Paris is just for a few months, we'll be back in London to give birth and we'll have a home." You promised, but we're still here. We have no home and I'm going to give birth here, I know it.'

'That's not so bad Emily, they've got good hospitals here…'

'You promised!'

'I know – '

'Then if you love me, why don't you keep your promises?' Emily said. Rachel wiped away a tear that had come unbidden. If we love each other, we keep our promises, and we're where we belong, with each other, not an ocean apart.

'I'll never get another chance like this again, can't you see?' he said. Rachel could no longer sympathise with Stuart, much as she wanted to. Emily needed a home. Rachel needed a home. Emma needed a home. She reached for the phone book and looked up the airlines.

'That's what you said this time, and the time before. I always have to give in because you say it will ruin your life if I don't. What about my life? Don't I ever get to have a say?' Rachel had found the number for United, and started rehearsing the phrase in her head, I would like to buy a one way ticket to New York…

'Of course, but you're asking me to choose.' There was a brief, deadly silence before Emily said,

'If you really think that there is a real choice between me and going to China, then it's over, Stuart. I'm not coming second any more. Tomorrow, I take the Eurostar to London, with or without you.' Rachel rushed out on to the balcony.

'Stop!' Rachel exclaimed. They looked at her. 'You, Stuart, go back in there, you get yourself ready, and you take her back to London right now. I don't care how you do it, you just go.'

'What?' they both said.

'Now. You don't get a second chance at this moment,' Rachel said. 'You both go to London. You have to be together because you can't be apart, it's just madness, being apart, when you belong together. Crazy. I've got things I have to do, now. Just go.' Emily stared as Rachel shooed Stuart off the balcony and out of her flat. She had the number ready, and she knew what she was going to say. The phone rang again. She picked it up.

'Ross?' Rachel asked.

'Yes?'

'Tell Mom not to come. I'm coming home.'

'You- you're coming home? Are you sure?' Ross asked in amazement.

'I've never been more sure,' Rachel said.

'Because you don't like Paris?'

'No,' Rachel said, 'Because I love you.'


End file.
